Then there was the river.
“Yes,” he thought; “that would be easier, for it was a broad highway, swiftly flowing down toward civilisation and safety.”
Murray felt a bitter twinge of annoyance at that moment, as he thought of how he had sacrificed everything to his love for science, and as soon as he had found it necessary to accept his position, hardly troubled himself to think of the whereabouts of the boat in which he had arrived, and of where the men who formed her crew had been placed.
“Hamet will know,” he thought as, in a vague way, he began to make plans, when he was interrupted by Mr Braine’s voice uttering the one word, “Well?”
Murray turned at once and stood close to the other occupants of the room, drawing his breath hard, and longing to plunge at once into the conversation, but shrinking from the emotion by which he was half suffocated.
A silence of some moments succeeded Mr Braine’s questioning word, and the faint murmur of women’s voices could be heard from the inner rooms.
“Yes; there is no doubt about it now,” said the doctor. “I have always dreaded this, but lived on in hope.”
“And I,” said Mr Braine, sadly.
“The base, treacherous—”
“Hush!”